


Restless

by blissfullylostinarabbithole



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blissfullylostinarabbithole/pseuds/blissfullylostinarabbithole
Summary: The only time you’re still long enough for Steve to sketch you is when you fall asleep after a mission.





	Restless

Steve sighed in resignation and closed his sketchbook for the umpteenth time.

He had been walking around the compound, just catching up with everyone and making sure things were running smoothly, when he passed by the large windows and saw you reading under a tree. The serene look on your face told him you were probably comfortable, so he rushed to his room to grab his sketchbook and pencils, and situated himself in front of the window. He’d been trying for a while now to draw you, but you never could sit still for very long.

Once he sat, he hurriedly outlined your posture and the scenery. As he was mapping the way strands of your hair brushed your cheek, you pushed yourself away from the trunk, and flipped your legs up to lean against where your back had just been. You lay on the grass, holding your book up in one hand as the other stroked the soft, green blades.

Steve frowned, but turned the page and began again, this time skipping the scenery except for the trunk. He was disappointed he couldn’t see your face in that position, but the way the sun shone in your hair as it fanned out on the ground, and the graceful way your hand barely grazed the grass was so uniquely you, it took his breath away. He was marveling at the way your legs looked, crossed at the knee, and your right foot softly tapping against the tree, when again you shifted.

You positioned yourself on your side, resting your cheek on one hand while the other drummed against your thigh. After a while, you sat up, cross legged with the book on your lap, before again laying on your back with only your feet and shins visible to Steve.

He made his way up to his room to put his things away. Sitting on his bed, he flipped through the book and saw all the unfinished pictures of you he had, and was a little ashamed at the realization of just how fixated on you he was. Yes, you were friends, but there was no way to justify how he always noticed the way your eyes lit up when you were happy, or the way he could distinguish what each of your laughs meant. Though you were friends, he just couldn’t bring himself to ask you if he could sketch you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Even covered in dust and debris, hair sticking up where you had a particularly nasty tangle, Steve thought you were beautiful.

“Ok, what is it,” you asked. “Do I have blood on my face?”

Steve blushed, realizing he’d been staring. “No, uh, just making sure you’re ok. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

You nodded, smiling. “I’m just exhausted, I promise.”

“Alright.”

Afraid he would start staring again, he excused himself to speak to Clint and Sam at the cockpit. Unable to help himself, he looked back to make sure you were ok, and found you’d fallen asleep. He returned to his seat, and smiled at how peaceful you looked curled up on the seats. Completely forgetting his embarrassment from the week before, he returned to the cockpit and demanded a pen, grabbing the mission file on his way back to his place across from you.

As he studied your features, and tried to keep his heart from bursting at the way you partially hid your face when you slept, he realized just how tired you must have been if your only movement what the rise and fall of your chest. He began as he always did, with a quick mapping of your surroundings before moving on to your posture. His cheeks burned as he outlined your silhouette, your combat suit leaving little to the imagination.

“Aww, look at you being all creepy,” Sam teased as he approached.

“Quiet. You’ll wake her,” he whispered.

“Um, you know you have to give that back to Fury, right?” he indicated to the manila folder Steve was sketching on.

“I’ll swap it out for a clean one at the compound,” he spoke quickly.

Sam watched him for a moment before looking over at you. “How many times is it now?”

“What?” Steve looked up in confusion.

“How many times have you drawn her?”

“None,” he answered a bit defensively. He hung his head in defeat at Sam’s raised brow. “I’ve tried countless times, but haven’t completed a single one.” He resumed his sketch, wishing Sam would return to the cockpit.

“Why’s that?”

“She moves too much.”

“Oh,” Sam looked over at you and frowned. “I haven’t noticed.”

Steve gaped at him. “How have you not noticed? She can’t sit still for more than five minutes. It’s like she can never find a comfortable spot.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t watch her like a lovesick puppy,” he defended.

“Shh! I’m not a- I don’t, ok? I just… we’re friends and…”

“Aaaand you love her.” Sam chuckled softly when Steve covered his face with the folder in embarrassment. “Just talk to her. You said yourself you’re friends. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start…” he trailed off.

“You should. You’re the one that loves her.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “If that’s all the help you’re going to be, you can go back to Clint.”

Sam raised his hands in surrender before heading back to the cockpit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steve couldn’t believe his luck. Not only did he finish the sketch, but he was proud with how it turned out. When you landed at the compound, he clutched the file close making sure no one would be able to see. He hated to wake you, and would have preferred to carry you to your room, but you couldn’t skip the debriefing. Kneeling in front of you, he gently shook your shoulder and startled a bit when your eyes shot open, not looking at all tired.

“Oh! Uh, we’re here.”

“Did you finish?” you asked as you stood.

“Finish?”

“The sketch.” You watched the color drain from his face as he tried to hide the folder behind him. “Is that it? Can I see it?” He didn’t say anything, nor did he move. He stood there, staring like a deer caught in the headlights. “You can say no…”

“You.. you heard?” Steve spluttered.

“Uhh…”

“AND YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING?!” He was mortified. “You let us go on and on about how I pay too much attention to you and Sam making fun of how much I love you and-”

“WOAH! WHAT?!” You dropped back to the seat and looked up at Steve. “I woke up and saw you sketching. You were looking at my legs, so I stayed still. What are  _you_  talking about? Did you just say you love me?”

“So, you didn’t hear anything…” You shook your head. Steve groaned and sat beside you. “Yes. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“By telling me?”

“No, I mean just off a mission, covered in filth,” He braved a quick look and found you eyeing him curiously. “a slew of dead bodies left in our wake.”

You took his hand in yours and gave it a comforting pat. “For every life we took, we saved many. As for the other stuff, this is our lives,” you shrugged. “We’re not guaranteed a perfect opportunity. We’re not even guaranteed a tomorrow, so we have to take our chances as they present themselves.” You sent him a pointed look. He swallowed hard, making you chuckle. You leaned in, whispering, “Like now would be good.”

Steve grinned, blushing and rubbing the back of his head. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Of course I will.” You stood and pulled him up with you. “Now let’s go before Fury sends a search party after us.”

“Too late,” Fury’s annoyed voice called from the hangar.

“Sorry, we were just setting some things straight.” Steve winked at you as he handed the file over.

Nick’s eye flickered between you and Steve before lifting the folder and pointing at the drawing. “What the hell is this?”

* * *

 


End file.
